


Release

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Depression, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Written forSPN_MasqueradeFall 2018, for the prompt:After a stressful day on set, Jared needs to relieve that stress. He follows Jensen into his trail, bends Jensen over and uses him as a stress reliever.Originally postedherewarnings:Non-AU, dubcon, depression, bareback





	Release

Jared doesn’t miss a step following Jensen back to his trailer. Nearly in sync, they tug at the Winchester’s Fed ties and dress shirts before reaching the stairs up and inside. He keeps right on the back of Jensen’s strides like they’re one four-legged animal escaping to the quiet far away from set. 

He’s still stiff and stressed from his shoulders down to his hips, still troubled from battling the words dotting today’s pages that required an extra edge to Sam and Dean’s regularly scheduled angst. Playing against Jensen is the easiest job he’s ever had, then some days, diving deep into his character’s frustrations really fucks with his head. Especially when his brain is already a swamp of dark emotions.

He needs to escape, can feel it stir hot and quick from his knees to bolt and run away. But he’s aligned with Jensen tighter than magnets and can’t flee just yet.

Once they’re inside Jensen’s trailer, Jared releases a long sigh. Phantom cracks fissure down his chest, like he’s crumbling under the weight of Sam’s emotions, piled atop his own issues. Like he just can’t shake it off even after the director of the week yelled cut. It doesn’t help that Jensen shoots him a look, Dean’s sharp eyebrow arched in question, waiting for explanation as he opens a bottle of water. 

Jared can’t answer, or doesn’t want to really. He has to keep the words tucked tight inside or else he’ll crumble under the weight of Jensen’s stare. No matter how open Jensen typically is to listen, to help, Jared doesn’t want to continue dropping this burden on his doorstep.

Instead, Jared pulls his tie completely free, yanks the tail out from his collar, then flicks buttons down his shirt to pull it off and leave him in just pants and an undershirt. Just those few quick shuffles from Sam back into Jared usually helps him.

Like everything else in Jared’s mind right now, it fails. 

It must be written on his face because Jensen pauses mid-sip with that eyebrow lifted impossibly high. 

Once in a while, Jared swears his mind plays tricks on him. That when he looks at Jensen under the soft lights of the kitchen, they’re still back there and still brothers, fighting all of hell (literally), and dragging ass across the continental U.S. with no one out there who truly understands them. Part of him is aware of the truth with him and Jensen living in their own little bubble for a decade and a half with no one else who gets it quite like them. 

No one gets him quite like Jensen, either. And even as Jared continues to bottle up all the frustration and exhaustion over these last few weeks of torturous hours spent filming mixed with late-night flights to conventions, spending all day _on_ and smiling for fans, and then racing right back to Vancouver to hit restart … even as he can’t shake the tightness in every muscle or the empty crackling in his chest when he breathes deep, he can’t say it. Not aloud. 

So, actions. It has to be actions that drag the tension right out of him, and he’s had enough edgy energy bounding through him to do just that. 

He steps up to Jensen, takes the water bottle away to set it on the counter, and grabs hold of Jensen’s face. It isn’t so much of a kiss as a forceful catch of their mouths together, tighter than their bodies when Jared shoves himself into Jensen’s space without question. 

Jensen makes a noise, a few actually, but Jared can’t discern the good from the bad. One side of his brain immediately registers Very! Bad! Things! Happening! while the other is fully cognizant of Jensen’s hands settling around his waist and keeping him near. In that careful touch of fingers pressed into him, Jared can finally nod to himself and allow a quick break to breath. To suck in as much air as he can pack tight into this empty chest, keeping his forehead pressed to Jensen’s. 

“Again?” Jensen asks quietly, and Jared can’t stop the nod, even when he wants to shrink into himself with shame that Jensen knows what’s what.

Knows that Jared’s on that tight rope again, tip-toeing his way through every minute of every day, fearing the fall. Nah, not falling. More like, terrified of hitting the ground, bones shattering under bright spotlights where all can survey his graceless crash.

Jared swallows thickly, moisture building in the back of his throat, not to mention the corners of his eyes. He can’t bear to close his eyes or else tears will waterfall their way down his face and that will be more humiliating. Even if they’ve both sat witness to it all before.

Jensen’s hands climb Jared’s back, palms firm as they go and gripping tight up near Jared’s shoulders to hold him tight. He nudges his head to the side and sets his lips to Jared’s ear. “Don’t gotta wait so long next time.”

“I know you don’t like …” Jared shakes it off, the rest of that sentence along with the idea that had already presented itself. Several times over the day, in fact. 

The image of him rushing up on Jensen and taking … anything, everything. Taking just to fill himself up without care of anything or anyone else. But for all that he soars in those few minutes, he almost always hates himself after when he has to face the effect. 

Confusion.

Irritation.

Pain.

That he’s responsible for Jensen coping in the _after_ , it almost doesn’t make it worth it. 

Almost. Which he knows is why he’d shadowed Jensen all the way back to his trailer, forced them toe to toe, and hasn’t bothered to leave. The guilt still pulses hard through his veins and he can barely look Jensen in the eye. 

“Hey,” whispers Jensen with a soft touch along Jared’s hair. “Just go slow.”

Jared shakes his head, clenches his eyes, and damn those tears for finally breaking free and tracking down his cheeks. He drops his head with hair hanging over the redness of his cheeks, now all wet as he inhales sharply to hold himself steady. 

Jensen helps here, too, holding onto Jared’s jaw with two firm hands and forcing their eyes to meet. “Slow,” he instructs and Jared blinks in promise because he knows otherwise Jensen will turn his back the next time and Jared will be left with far more destructive coping mechanisms. 

His therapist told him breathing was key and while he hates seeing her face in the back of his mind while watching Jensen at times like these, the cool air at his throat helps keep a fraction of mania at bay. Her voice floats lightly through his ears, _breath, take a second, don’t think, just breathe and take a moment._ And that’s all he can do when Jensen takes a step back to give himself space to undress.

Jared focuses on the push-pull of his chest with each inhale and exhale, even when his heart thumps against his lungs as Jensen maintains an intense stare while shimmying out of Dean’s dress slacks and tossing them to the side. Even as he pulls his shirts off, buttons going just as deliberately as every other move Jensen makes in this moment, down to the unhurried way he pulls his undershirt up to his neck and holds, continues watching Jared until they each blink and he tugs it over his head. 

He keeps looking right at Jensen, can’t bear to leave that silent trust bottomed out in the hazy green of his eyes, yet he does shift closer and reaches for the warmth of bared skin. Dares to touch the corner of Jensen’s mouth with dry lips, a hint of thanks before his mind is no longer his own and he’s dragged into the undercurrent of wild emotions. He moves to Jensen’s jaw and rubs his mouth along the sharp angle before digging teeth around the cut of bone.

Jensen’s harsh breath stops him, and Jared runs his hands around to hold Jensen tight. He knows the reprimand is coming, but it still cuts in his chest. 

“Nowhere in the open,” Jensen reminds him. 

He nods into Jensen’s shoulder and waits a beat before he tries again. This time, he opens his mouth and sinks into the clavicle, the bone unyielding to his canine and blood pounds through his system, pulses down between his legs. 

Jensen takes another quick breath, tenses up with the hold of Jared’s mouth on him, but the marks will be out of view so he holds still and waits. A saint’s patience struggling against the skittish legs of a doe ready to leap out of sight, and Jared can’t fight the flare of adoration bright and hot behind his eyes. So he lifts up to see the stubborn tolerance in Jensen’s eyes for long moments before rewarding him with a firm kiss, mouth pushing at Jensen’s and tongue diving deep. A hand at the back of Jensen’s head keeps him place as Jared begins his assault, no matter how much tenderness bubbles just beneath the surface every other moment of their lives. 

His tongue reaches far, winds around Jensen’s then flattens out to fill the space, just like the rest of his body begs to fill out all of Jensen. To dig in deep and pick at the cracks no one else can see. And now the rest of Jared’s nerves flash red hot with the image and he has to be there now. Not in a minute or even two seconds, but so much now that it’s already too late by the time he spins Jensen around and pushes his chest down on the table jutting out from the counter. 

One firm hand at Jensen’s lower back keeps him flat and the other stumbles through the nearby drawer to come up with lube that’s buried far in the back, away from prying eyes. Maybe also from prying fingers like Jared’s that sometimes move of their own volition, scratching at itches Jared tries to keep under wraps. 

Not this time, no, Jared is scraping at this band-aid and scuffing dirt and tears right into the wound. Though he has to accept that Jensen has given authority, even if Jared’s darkest corners doubt if he really means it or if it’s some twisted part of them that will only ever say yes. No matter the question. 

“Jay,” Jensen rushes out on a caught breath and Jared belated realizes his finger is already two knuckles deep. 

No finesse, no warning. Not even lube, and Jared’s chest fractures sideways with shame spilling in. “Sorry, so sorry,” he whispers through a tight frown. Further remorse, he leans forward and kisses Jensen’s spine as he pulls his finger out, sets his cheek to the strength of Jensen’s lower back. He keeps it there in comfort as he curls his finger with lube and takes his time this go-round when he touches Jensen’s hole and pushes in. 

It’s easier than before, Jared can tell, yet there’s still the slow spread of muscles around his finger when he prods at Jensen and scrapes at his insides with the pad of his finger to feel every square inch of him. With his ear planted to Jensen’s back, Jared feels the tightening of muscles when he sets another finger to Jensen’s hole. He can hear the jerk of bones and tendons when Jensen widens his legs to make more room and let Jared dig in with two fingers now. 

Jared lets him settle around the new pressure and slides his chin across Jensen’s spine to look at him. A tiny smile warms his face when he sees Jensen bearing down on the table and hugging around the edges, cheek flat to the surface. Tolerant and so giving, his Jensen, and Jared’s heart blooms twice in size, he swears. His chest is too full to breathe. 

Rolling his face down into Jensen’s skin, Jared suffers through ragged air as he pushes a third finger in and holds tight. Tucks his fingers in like he’ll never let go. If he could, he’d hold on tight and carry Jensen to the bed just like this, but his own impatience wins out with a few haste tugs at Jensen’s hole before pushing back inside. Now he fumbles one-handed to get his pants open, lacking grace for all that Jensen shows here in stark contrast.

With a healthy dose of lube, he fists himself in quick flicks of his wrist so he can drive right into Jensen with barely a gasp between his hand and cock for all that Jensen knows. Then he’s sliding in and ignoring the tightness of Jensen clenching at the force of him bottoming out. A long groan tumbles over Jared’s tongue and he’s home, warm and safe right here inside Jensen, touching him in the darkest of places, where only Jared is allowed to burrow. 

More steady breaths help ground Jared before he’s ready to let go, before he’ll ignore Jensen’s warning to go slow because he never can once he’s here. Best intentions hold for only so long until Jared locks his hands around Jensen’s waist and grips hard so he can pull back and sink right back in with a loud slap of skin. A few more test swings of him rocking back and in, and Jared sneers with his head tipping back, bitten lips aimed up to the ceiling. 

Then all pretense is gone and Jared’s fingernails scratch at Jensen’s skin for purchase when he starts up a harsh rhythm to pound his way further inside. He’s fully aware he’s holding Jensen forcefully to the table, knows he’s thrusting too quick and too rigid for any of Jensen’s care. He also feels his blood boiling to the surface, seeking its own release as he fucks and pants his way to the end. Using Jensen’s body for relief when nothing else will do, he pushes faster and rougher, pounds Jensen into the table as he chases the searing depth pulling him under. 

He hears Jensen’s grunting and erratically breathing; his own hunger roars louder. 

“C’mon, take it,” Jared growls. Words slip past any form of filter or care now, and he continues with the harsh tempo and grabs hold of Jensen’s shoulders to jerk him back on his cock. Even leans down to bite at his shoulder blades and spit obscenities into his skin. 

Jensen manages to wrench his arm back to touch with his fingers sliding into Jared’s hair as he pants out his name. 

“You like that,” Jared barks in between grinding his teeth into smooth, innocent skin. “Say it, say you love it, say you want more.”

He doesn’t, only says Jared’s name again. Voice full of such reverence that Jared’s hips stutter as the facade shakes before his eyes. 

“Gonna fuck you dirty,” Jared insists and he does. Shocks them both with strikes so fierce Jensen’s sliding up the table and Jared’s losing his grip on him. 

Losing grip of this, too. Through that muddy veneer of what Jared needs, there’s a quick strike down the center of it when Jensen’s hand settles on his shoulder. The warmth of his touch, intentional and firm with his fingertips pressing in, disrupts the fierce rage banging around in his mind. 

That’s not what this is about, not at all. Jared needs to get all this blazing-white disgust and self-hate out of his body. Like emptying one’s stomach of a lecherous poison, Jared has to shove his fear and loathing out with an act of pure deviance in a stark departure from himself. 

But Jensen isn’t playing to those rules. He’s taking his own off-ramp and dragging Jared along with him as he keeps repeating Jared’s name with a cloudy mix of pain and affection. And his fingers twist through Jared’s hair, without tugging, because they never will. They just settle there to keep Jared grounded to him as he can finally get some of his own power back. Just in time for Jared to collapse on him and release his death grip. 

Now they move together, Jensen rocking his hips back and Jared languidly rolling right into the waves of care and devotion crashing all around him. He wraps one arm under Jensen and the other up around his head to hold him close, running his lips along Jensen’s shoulder and leaving tiny tracks of teeth along the way. Just a light grazing until he can find Jensen’s mouth and sink right in to twirl their tongues together, in time, in respect and admiration. To show what all he feels when Jensen wrenches him back to up to stand tall with confidence and compassion. 

It’s slower, too, when Jared fucks him now and lets Jensen fuck himself with well-intentioned snaps of his hips, pushing his ass back on Jared’s dick like he’s chasing his own release through this whole escapade. And maybe he is, Jared thinks. Just as Jared has to plummet into the darkest parts of himself to know light, maybe Jensen needs to take the plunge with him just to prove to them both that he will always, without fail or pause, haul Jared back out into the vibrant glow of life.

And ain’t that it, right there, that keeps them tucked in tight, walking in sync through this hell of a life when Jared always thinks himself to be alone and misunderstood. He hears it in Jensen’s voice, too, when he’s rattling off Jared’s name again, this time like it’s worship and not penance to be here like this, together. 

With all those threads of wonder and care winding together, Jared can finally feel the strain of his despair melt away, and feels with every trembling inch of Jensen beneath him, waiting and wanting to just be them. He mouths along the top of Jensen’s spine, dragging kisses up into his hair while he reaches down to palm Jensen’s cock. His hips lose any form as red heat pools low in his belly, and he stays focused on Jensen long enough to stroke him and slip his fingers around the tip and tug, just as he knows Jensen likes.

The reward is clear in Jensen’s withered, satisfied moans as he comes. Jensen clenches around him and Jared can’t stand to hold firm any longer. It takes just half a minute of quick thrusts until he crumbles, crying out against the heated pink of Jensen’s shoulder. 

When Jared can bother to move, he mouths at Jensen’s shoulder, lips widening around his hushed, “Love you.”

Jensen hums and tries to stretch against the unforgiving table. After a deep breath, he quietly asks, “Can I get up?”

Without a word, Jared backs off, keeping his head down with the shame of his actions and holds still right where he stands a few feet away. If he has patience anywhere, it’s when waiting for Jensen to unravel from the headfuck of what Jared puts him through. 

As he’s done so many times before, Jensen stands tall, extending every muscle; to manage the strain Jared puts on his body or maybe just to rise up and reclaim his independence from Jared’s disgrace, it’s none too clear when Jared is still floundering under his emotions. 

It’s still a shock when Jensen pulls Jared back in with his arms comfortably rung around him and leans up to set a careful kiss on Jared’s pout. “Okay?” Jensen asks, no-nonsense green watching carefully and Jared buckles under the intense look

“Sorry,” he mutters, but Jensen draws him closer. 

Slowly asks, “Are you okay?” When Jared refuses to open his mouth, Jensen sets his lips to Jared’s chin, like he’s taking his time, or is lost in thought. Then he presses a tiny kiss and observes, “You were better this time. Didn’t take so long to reach you.”

Jared doesn’t enjoy recalling what happens, just acknowledges that it has and does his best to bury it. But like all good partners, Jensen forces it into view and rewards Jared when he succeeds. And that finally makes Jared smile, honest and full.


End file.
